Richmond, Not Just the Capitol of Virginia

Having survived our trek in the cloud, Lina and Gil headed south while Oded and I headed north. By chance we stopped for the night in Richmond, a town of no note to backpackers and kiwis alike. We arrived around seven and headed straight to a little festival in town someone told us about. Local wineries and breweries lined the streets serving tastes, glasses and bottles. Tables were packed with locals, young and old, consuming baked potatoes, crepes, and "American" hot dogs. Little boys walked barefoot eating shaved ice, dyed red, blue and orange. A band played in the background, an audience to the show the locals put on. They sang everything from Aretha to Pink to Sweet Home Alabama and after the wine took hold, everyone was on their feet, dancing. Teenage girls in short shorts danced in groups, their bra straps showing for effect. A mother swayed to the music with her son in her arms. Couples with white hair danced dances that have names that I should know (waltz?) and of course a quartet of Israeli boys jumped around, all curly hair and cigarettes. The sun set, at first lighting the sky in shades of purple and orange, but after time faded to soft pinks, blues and some purple still. The music lasted for hours and the crowd only sang louder and danced harder and when it was time to go home, couples strolled hand in hand while the neighborhood kids chased each other with cups of water, the slow at a disadvantage. A small town at its best.